Life Happens

I spent a large part of yesterday sitting in the local ED - I'd developed severe shoulder pain and we thought I might have a serious injury. As it happens after examination and x-rays it turned out to be  bursitis, which although painful is treatable starting with a whiz bang sling to ease the pain and followed by painkillers and rest while it heals. If that doesn't work there's the possibility of steroid injections.

Thanks to this regime I'm feeling more comfortable if somewhat limited as to what I can do and as I'm sure you've noticed always happens in these situations I have a sudden desire to do all those things that require full use of my right arm and hand. Some of these I had already planned - for instance I had intended to get out into the garden to take advantage of the relatively cooler weather we're having to clear out the veggies that have past their usefulness and that will obviously have to wait.

By no means all come into that category, though. Why on earth do I suddenly have an urge to sew, for example. I can barely hold a pen at the moment so why on earth would I think I could cut out and make up a garment? I know, it's ridiculous but it's only one of many things I absolutely need - actually that should be want - to be doing - and can't. To be fair some of these things have been sitting quietly wanting my attention for some time but there's been no urgency and it won't make any difference whether they're done today, next week or next month so why do I need to even think about them right now.

One thing that I can't do and find genuinely annoying does relate to holding a pen. Ever since I read Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way back in 1994 I've made a practice of writing Morning Pages. Cameron advises that as soon as possible after getting up you sit down and write around three pages. You don't plan or critique in any way. You just write about whatever is on your mind. It can be a rant, a plan of action for the day, thoughts on political matters, anything. These pages are not meant to be shared and I go through them every six months or so and discard anything not worth keeping which unsurprisingly is most of it. Whatever irritation caused the rant has long past, politics has moved on and so on.  I like to write these pages longhand and find the process wonderfully thought clarifying to the point that whenever I've missed doing my pages I feel I've started the day badly. And that's the situation I'm in now. I only managed a half a page this morning before I simply couldn't continue to write anymore and this looks like it's going to be the frustrating situation for some days at least. Sigh.